


When Time Stood Still

by dustbunnyprophet



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, JJSeungWeek2017, M/M, mostly angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbunnyprophet/pseuds/dustbunnyprophet
Summary: A morning, one of many, when all Seung-gil wanted was silence. Just a small bubble of silence where he could enjoy the warmth of Jean’s body wrapped around his, and the soft breaths that ghosted over his skin.But there was no respite for him. Not when he lived on borrowed time. Because happiness was transient, emotions were frail, and duty was inevitable.And Seung-gil would eventually have to make a choice.JJSeung Week 2017, Day 1 -Slice of life





	When Time Stood Still

 

The sun filtered softly through the white curtains. It bathed the bedroom in a shy light that smudged into shadow midway across the bed. Seung-gil lay under the cotton sheets, listening to the faint sound of Jean’s breaths on his skin. There was a tan, tattooed arm curled around his stomach, keeping Seung-gil’s back pressed against Jean’s solid chest. Seung-gil closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a sleepy breath, and letting himself just feel. There was something profoundly right in the warmth that enveloped him. In the solid body spooning him. In the steady heartbeat he could hear against his spine.

And Seung-gil wished that moment could stretch into eternity. He almost desperately wanted to be able to carve out a space in time to fit the shape of their bodies along with the peace of that early morning, when nothing but them mattered and the rest of the world stopped beyond the bedroom door. He wished he could keep Jean with him and never, ever have to let go.

His lips curled in a grimace and he opened his eyes. The clock on the nightstand stared back at him, mocking him with its silent blinking. Seung-gil could wish, but the minutes still trickled by, second after second, and he eventually would have to get up, get dressed, turn the knob on the door and walk out into the hotel hallway, towards his own room. He would sit on the edge of his cold bed, and remind himself of the transience of happiness, of the frailty of emotions.

And of the inevitability of duty.

Something lodged in his throat and he tried to swallow. But it would not budge. The door to Jean’s room was still closed, a _Do Not Disturb_ sign hanging on the outside, but it didn’t really matter when Seung-gil had brought the rest of the world with him, carrying it inside his chest.

He closed his eyes once again, trying to push away the heaviness of those thoughts, but it was like trying to stop the tide from rising. He suppressed a shiver, trying to keep his body from showing the way it was slowly drowning in inky darkness, the way his chest constricted, and bile settled on his tongue. He tried to keep himself still, to will it all away. But his shoulder moved.

And it stirred Jean awake.

Seung-gil held his breath, hoping he would get back to sleep, but Jean’s arm tightened his hold, and he pressed a kiss against the nape of Seung-gil’s neck murmuring

“I love you.”

It was tender, barely a whisper, and yet it captured every facet of Jean’s emotions, and Seung-gil’s chest squeezed painfully. It was a vice only he could see. It crushed his lungs, pressing his heart against the inside of his ribcage. And before he could stop them _\- why couldn’t he stop them?_ \- there were tears welling in his eyes. No. _No._

Seung-gil stared unblinkingly as they started trailing down his cheeks, and into the pillow he had buried his face into. No. Jean could not see, he _must not_ see.

He was frozen into place, wishing nothing but for them to stop. And yet finding himself unable to. Or was he unwilling? Weren’t they something he desperately needed? A vent to let out at least a fraction of the pressure inside him which was threatening to burst.

Because in spite of the quiet of the morning, and the barely there sound of the traffic in the street below, Seung-gil was not okay. In his mind, under his skin, in the shallow breaths he exhaled trying to stifle his tears, was hidden everything he hated. Regrets, and doubts, and impossible choices. What ifs and whys. Countless. Jarring. _What was he doing? Why was he doing this? Why was he such a disgrace? Why? Why? Why…_ They pressed against Seung-gil’s temples. And he just wanted them to _stop._ He wanted silence. Just a small bubble of silence where he could enjoy the warmth of Jean’s body wrapped around his, and the soft breaths that ghosted over his skin.

But there was no respite against the hammering of questions. And regrets. So many regrets. They all threatened to burst out. They would break through his skin like fractured bones. And Seung-gil had spent enough time on the ice to know what a compound fracture looked like. It was only a matter of time before everything came to a head and the feeble control he still had over himself vanished. He was tempted to let himself go. To just drop down, lost, completely lost.

It was just too much. All of this.

Seung-gil could feel his chest caving in, breaths too shallow to be of any use, and faintly he realised this was not good. Not in the slightest. But he just couldn’t stop _thinking_.

His fingers gripped the cotton sheets in a desperate grip.

All these choices, that were not really choices at all, because no matter what he did he would be taking a wrong turn. And living the rest of his life with regrets nipping at him, eating him away until there was nothing left but an empty shell where once _potential_ stood. That’s what they kept telling him, he had potential, he could aim for greatness, he was gifted.

He was a mess.

It was the only truth he knew. He was a mess. But he was also too good at concealing it. No one really suspected anything. No one asked. No one, not even Jean, wondered if things were truly going so swimmingly. They just smiled, everyone did, content, satisfied. Because Seung-gil was doing everything perfectly. He was fulfilling everyone’s expectations. Even _Jean’s._

But Jean didn’t know. _Couldn’t_ know how much it all tore him apart.

There were kisses being pressed on his shoulderblades, and Jean’s lips were so tender Seung-gil stifled a sob, struggling to cry as soundlessly as he could. Jean kept peppering his back with delicate kisses, and mouthing how much he loved him.

And Seung-gil just couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his breath form hitching.

It was a barely audible sob. But it shook his whole chest.

“Seung-gil?” Jean asked suddenly. His voice was close and there was worry, so much worry in it.

Seung-gil couldn’t look at him. He just couldn’t. So he pressed his face harder into the pillow, trying to disappear, to be swallowed by the wet cotton and vanish from this mess. From this painful inability to choose between two impossible, just _impossible_ choices.

Because he could follow the preordained path, he could be the son, the champion, the national icon he was supposed to be. Or he could choose a different road. He could choose fingers lazily drawing circles on his skin, the warmth of a body pressed close to his, calloused fingers cupping his cheek and soft lips pressing against his, tasting like chapstick and breathless moments.

Even thinking about it made Seung-gil’s heart pound quickly against his ribs, while his stomach knotted almost painfully.

“Seung-gil, are you crying?” Jean asked again, a thumb trailing down the side of his cheek, and wiping the wetness “What’s wrong?” he breathed, and the earnest worry in it made Seung-gil sob again.

It was a nearly impossible choice to make. Because he _wanted_ him. The thought of spending the rest of his life without him by his side, loud, cheerful, stupidly grinning, but also tender, earnest in his affection, wearing his heart on his sleeve, made him feel like throwing up.

He could not stand the thought.

How could he leave this? How could he leave him? It would hurt them both, it would hurt them in ways he was not ready to find out. It would dim the light in Jean’s eyes. How could Seung-gil do _that?_

But Seung-gil would be a disappointment if he chose Jean.

He would forsake everything that was expected of him. And he couldn’t do that either. He couldn’t turn his mother’s face into the expressionless stoicism he knew it would slip in. They had been there for him, they had supported him, they were his family, his club, his country. He couldn’t just abandon them. It would just cause a different kind of pain, a different kind of wrongness. And how could he do _that_?

His whole body shivered as his stomach seemed to eat itself and he wanted to scream, to punch, to kick, to let it all out. To loudly sob until it all washed away. Because it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Why did he have to choose? _Why?_

Jean’s arms were curling around him, and he was being pulled into a crushing embrace just as his sobs turned ugly, wrecking his whole body. He didn’t want to live on borrowed time, feeling like his present was slipping through his fingers, and dreading the day when he would have to make a choice. When he would sacrifice one of the two things that mattered the most to him. He dug his fingers into Jean’s back.

He didn’t want to leave this, any of this. He _didn’t_.

Why couldn’t he have both?

 

Why?

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A loose interpretation of the prompt, I'm afraid. I'm sorry for the unresolved angst. Come weep with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dustbunnypropht)!


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